Sub Rosa
by CadenceMassacre
Summary: As Imperial Ambassador for Spain and heir to the throne of England, it was only natural that they would excel at keeping secrets. Eustace Chapuys/Princess Mary, WIP, M for later chapters.


AN: Hey all! So lately I've been in a Tudors kind of mood and have had episodes playing on netflix for the past week or so. One of my favorite Tudors ships was the Chapuys/Lady Mary ship and, after reading many amazing Chary fics and seeing some great videos I felt inspired to create my own. This fic will feature my own take on the Chary relationship, featuring some lyrics from time to time. In this chapter the song is Torn by Kamelot. As usual, I own nothing. Please enjoy, read and review!

~Cadence

**Chapter 1: Torn**

_Like a pendant on the neck of a queen  
10, 000 scars an embrace of the stone  
As we dance on a steady canopy  
Accuse me, fool me, take all my pain away, my friend  
Singing my final song of honor  
Betrayed but still I never came around to open my mind_

Eustace Chapuys was not a reckless man. His entire life and career was built on tact. Every word, every gesture, every letter was said, done, and written with careful tact and thought on the magnitude and repercussions. He planned, he prayed, and he did with precision in both plan and execution. It was only with the cruel irony of fate that everything he had strove for, worked for, and devoted himself to was threatening to come undone, burned to a cinder by what now coursed through his veins. The Imperial Ambassador, despite his skill, eloquence, and excellence, had forgotten the first rule of diplomacy and, in all honesty, life: Expect the unexpected.

His days, months, weeks, and years had centered on her. Since their first meeting nearly ten years ago, when she was but a girl of thirteen, without a mother and forsaken by her father, always was she in his mindset to be protected, advised, and aided towards the restoration of her proper destiny as heir to the throne of England. He had been so focused on the task at hand; his duties that his master and his own conscious had demanded of him that he failed to realize what was so blindingly clear. At some point in those ten years as she grew from a frail child into a young, blossoming woman of rare beauty, he had fallen for her.

Eustace Chapuys had fallen in love with his charge, the Lady –rightfully Princess- Mary.

_I was torn by the storms in my head  
Like a victim of fate  
Born to regret  
Still denied by the spirits of hell  
A call to repent  
Til the visions still stand in silence, like a shadow_

It had started out so small, slow, and softly, like the breeze of the Savoy summer. He would be in her company, reporting the news and developments at court and little details would take his attention away from his task. He'd notice things he never had the way before such as the way her hair glowed into a rich auburn shade in the sunlight, how her eyes sparkled with affection whenever she spoke of her pastimes with her half-siblings, the glow of her skin as she sat by the fireplace, and above all, what he loved most about her, her spirit. This strong, unbreakable strength and faith within her that never faltered or yielded, regardless of what test or trial came her way. It was these moments, these details that brought forth the realization of his love and devotion for her, transforming the soft breeze into an unyielding storm, thundering within his head in consuming fury.

He had tried to deny it at first. His mind commanded it of him. Everything he had ever known and believed to be right and true demanded that he release such frivolous notions and flutterings that her company and presence had brought forth within him. He was the Imperial Ambassador, a lowly servant to the Spanish King while she, regardless of what her Father may claim, was of the highest noble blood, descended from the dynasties of Aragorn and Castile and the rightful heir to England. He was little more than a bee hovering around the Tudor rose.

_Like a martyr that is nowhere to be seen  
10, 000 stars I have prayed for (the calm)  
As we drift on this never ending sea  
Clear me, keep me, take all my pain away, my friend  
Singing my final song of glory  
Betrayed but still I finally came around and opened my eyes_

And under the shadows of night, in his moments of prayer he would ask his God, the God who had both blessed and cursed him by entwining his path with hers, why. _Why_? So many years of being a cleric, not once entertaining notions of marriage and the like and being content… why, was he strung with such feeling? Why, more than ever, did he feel the loneliness his life of duty brought? Why did he awaken at night in a bed that felt empty and cold? Why did he dream of her? Why did he long for her? Why were the moments, however fleeting where he met with her and spoke with her, even if only for a moment to report news at court the highlight of his day, week, even month?

What had he done to deserve this torment, to be in the shadow of a woman he loved so dearly, but could never have in the capacity he so desperately longed for?

And in the depths of his mind, deep within the abyss of his concealed, most private thoughts that he would never allow to pass his lips he thought to himself that perhaps King Henry was not to be blamed after all when it came to the passion he felt and allowed to consume him, for Anne Boleyn. It was not witchcraft, but the bitterly sweet forbidden pangs brought forth by the weakness of man, for in God's plan, the Creator had made the Devil so much stronger than man.

_I was...  
Torn by the thorns in my head  
Like a victim of violence  
A call to repent  
Denied by the spirits of heaven  
Take me up again to the music of dawn  
_

This was a test. He was sure of it, having managed to convince himself of it. Surely this torment was God's ultimate test for him, to see where his loyalty would lie, if he would remember his duty and promises and honor them, or yield to his own corrupt feelings and desires and allow them to consume him in the sinful flames. If this was to be true, than so be it. Let all and any come what may, for never would he yield. Never would he yield and let harm come into his beloved Lady's way, for surely no good can come from his love for her. A man of his stature could do naught but corrupt Lady Mary. The treasure of Christendom and, God help him, he would be damned before he let anything taint her. He would protect her from anything and everything, even himself. It didn't matter if nothing but agony filled him every day he stood in her presence. It didn't matter if he would drown in the consuming seaside sorrow of unrequited love. It didn't matter if this silent torment would destroy him. He refused to fail her.

_I was torn by the storms in my head  
Like a victim of fate  
Born to regret  
Still denied by the spirits of hell  
A call to repent  
Til the visions still stand,  
Like a shadow_

His duty was to his Lady, and so it would remain, for she was his to serve, but not his to have.

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TBC with Lady Mary's perspective, featuring Evanescence's song Anywhere!


End file.
